Greeting the Dawn
by juniperjuniper2
Summary: Godric stands on the roof after Eric leaves, unaware of Sookie's presence. Sookie saves him from death, but isn't sure how. This fic will explore their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Hey ya'll! So this is my first fanfiction in 12 years, and trust me, you don't want to read the others. I'm toying with the idea of writing a follow-up to this piece. Let me know if you're interested! I hope you enjoy this!**

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Godric's Point of View

I turn to face the sunrise and stare out over the urban sprawl of downtown Dallas. Even though it has cooled down during the night, I can still see the waves of heat rising off the concrete below me. Looking off into the horizon, the tips of the clouds are painted orange.

I told my Child to go, and so he left me. It is done. There is nothing left to fill the black hole of aching emptiness in my chest. It has been growing for years, and I can no longer bear its existence. My existence.

That black hole has been my companion far longer than my Child has been alive. Eric filled it once. Filled it with the brightness of his humanity, until I beat it out of him, although his laugh never changed. He grew, he grew into himself. A vampire in his own right, and I know that it would be wrong to continue using him as a distraction from the emptiness inside.

I can no longer share his delight in the hunt, the kill, or the warm welcome of a woman's flesh. But I refuse to rob him of that joy. And so I released him, my Eric. He is no longer mine now.

I feel the warming breezes blowing against my cold skin, and I slowly unbutton and remove my shirt. I want nothing between my skin and the sunlight besides the air currents that would blow me away. The wind swirls the smoke that my body is beginning to generate. I will burn. I will burn and there will be nothing left of me. Just like on the inside.

The black emptiness has eaten away at everything. No amount of blood or violence or sex could ever fill it up. It was wrong to try. We were wrong to be here. Wrong for ever existing.

That dark companion reminds me of every person I have taken from another. A punishment I know I deserve so well.

I move my hand up to press against my sternum. Holding it in, as if that small gesture could contain the blackness inside me from expanding further and taking the only little piece of my soul that I have left. Oh yes, I have a soul. I am going to purge it with the light of the sun, and this blackness will finally be gone.

A touch – something is tugging at my arm. I pull my gaze away from the slowly brightening sky and onto the human woman. Sookie Stackhouse. Both of her warm hands are wrapped around my free one, engulfing it. The light blue of her eyes is shining. Why is she still here?

"Come on, Godric!" She says forcefully.

What?

Apparently, she has been talking for some time.

The woman huffs impatiently and drops my hand, bringing hers together to wring them fretfully. I feel the loss immediately, and the blackness within surges. I push harder on my chest to contain it from exploding out of my skin.

"No, Little One. This is my time. This is right." As I breathe the words I know I must destroy the darkness. It is a part of me.

I tilt my head slightly in order to see her better. Her face is filled with determination and desperation, not unlike my Child's. "Godric, you have to listen to me! You need to get off the roof!"

I shake my head gently to soften the blow. "There is nothing that you can say that I have not already heard, Little One. There are nothing but rationalizations with no sanity or truth."

I look back to the horizon. I can see the heat rising off the buildings. For each second the sky looks even redder. In this moment I cannot blame the humans for their pollution because the slight green cast makes this sunrise even more beautiful.

The breeze shifts, blowing a speck of grit into my eye and I blink. Blue. The blue of her eyes fills my vision. She is standing before me, blocking the light. My body whispers relief as her shadow blocks the harmful rays beginning to crest over the earth. Even the blackness slows its unrelenting growth in this moment.

I reach up with my free hand, unable to stop myself. Her face is so close to mine that each of her exhalations feels like a kiss. My hand slowly ghosts over the side of her face and I can feel each tiny hair along her skin. I catch a tear with my thumb, and it hangs there.

That strange wetness mirrors one of my own, but mine is dark, like me. I blink again in surprise. The sun is rising now, pushing even closer to our crust of earth, and I waver. I move my hand slightly drawing both our eyes to the movement. Her tear glistens in the sun, reflecting the light, no more than just the light.

I know then, dawn is just around the corner. I will burn. But I want this last thing. This one last thing. And as the sun crests over the horizon, she is backlit. Strands of her hair cast about in the wind, catching the light so it looks almost like golden fire.

The blackness within me is totally still, the gaping maw in my breast frozen by the moment and my actual want.

I look into her eyes as I open my mouth slightly, and slip my tear-covered thumb into my mouth. I close my eyes in anticipation. I don't want her to see, whatever my reaction. As though if I close my own eyes, she won't see me burn. I tense, hoping for one more moment, one last breath.

And then I taste it.

Bliss.


	2. Chapter 2

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 2

**A/N **

**Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews! Ya'll definitely are the reason why I decided to continue the story. Currently, I'm looking for a beta, so there is a good chance that I might make revisions to this and the previous chapter. [I've now found a rockin' beta, KJmom!]**

**Please let me know what you think about the story, even if it's to let me know you don't like something! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it!**

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Sookie's Point of View

I don't know what happened on that roof. Oh, believe me, I was there and all when the sun rose over the horizon and Godric burst into flames. But that's not what actually happened.

I don't think I've ever been as attuned to sunlight as I was in that moment. It was as though I could feel its warmth and weight like a tangible presence, lapping at the heels of my white flats before slithering up the backs of my legs and absorbing into the cotton of my dress.

I wrapped my arms around Godric in a fervent attempt to cover of much as his skin as possible. I wouldn't let him die. He couldn't!

The leather of his shoes was already smoking, and although his legs were encased in linen pants, I knew they wouldn't protect him for long. His history, those ancient tattoos, would no more protect him than sun block. Godric's chest was still exposed to the elements and the sun was coming for him.

Godric had closed his eyes. And although his thumb was in his mouth, he didn't look childish. The expression on his face was, well, I don't know how to describe it other than hope and love and joy and peace all swirled about. And despite my growing need to protect him, I couldn't help but be in awe of him. That look, whatever it was, suited him.

I braced myself against his cool body and I shoved. Hard. I pushed from my knees and used what felt like every muscle in my body to move him closer to the safety of the stairway. But he didn't budge.

By now I could feel the sun was there, like a warm hand cradling the back of my neck. I flinched, and shook my head in denial, tears spilling down my cheeks.

I looked up at his face so I could have a chance to memorize it, describe it to Eric. His eyes opened and my eyes caught his warm green gaze.

He wasn't burning. Godric was standing in the morning sun and he wasn't burning. I ran my hands frantically over his exposed skin, which was soaking in the warmth of my body heat and the morning sun. Godric didn't even feel cool to the touch.

"What?" I croaked.

His eyes were alight with joy and disbelief; his smile was beatific. "I'm full."

Struck by his expression and the lack of flame, I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that if I lost him, I would lose some piece of myself, a part of me I never knew was missing.

"Godric," I practically yelled into his face, trying to focus his attention. "Listen to me. Now is not the time to talk about your lack of hunger. You have to get inside!"

He grabbed my right hand and clutched it to his smooth chest, right above where his heart would have beat. "Do you feel it?"

By this time, the sun had to have cleared the horizon. The concrete we were standing on was already beginning to bake. The heat that I normally basked in was an oppressive force.

Trembling, I cupped his cheek with my free hand. A spark passed from my skin to his and I knew I had finally reached him. "Please," I begged him, my voice cracking. "Don't die. Don't leave me."

Everything shifted. I jerked with surprise when I realized that we were no longer standing on the rooftop, but were located inside the staircase of Hotel Carmilla. Godric was safe.

My knees gave out beneath me and I sagged against the wall, the handrail digging into my back.

"Are you all right, Miss Stackhouse," Godric asked gently. Gone was the expression I so admired, and in its place was the inscrutable face of a vampire. If it weren't for the bloody red tear smudged halfway down his cheek, I would have never known him to have any emotions at all.

"Yes," I panted. "Just, give me a minute." I struggled to catch my breath. The cool breeze of the air conditioner raised goosebumps over my skin. I stared at him, blatantly. As though my gaze could hold him in place.

Godric stood in silence, as though he was hearing something, feeling something that I couldn't comprehend. The florescent lighting made his tattoos stand out starkly against the pale skin of his bare torso.

"What was that? What were you thinking," I asked angrily. How could he do that? How could he leave me? There was so much left. So much to live for.

He sighed patiently, a contradiction I didn't know could exist until now. "All you need to know right now is that it is over. I can't explain it to you right now, Miss Stackhouse." He tilted his head to the side, listening. "I have to go. Eric needs me."

I nodded jerkily, "Yes, of course. Go to him." Before I could blink again he was gone.

I don't know how long I stayed in the stairwell. But eventually I found my way out of the stairwell and to the elevator. I knew that I couldn't climb all the way down to Bill's and my room.

I stopped as I walked past Eric's room. I knew that both Godric and Eric were inside. I could feel them. Before I knew what I was doing, I rested my hand against the door and closed my eyes.

"Miss? Do you need something?"

I must've jumped at least a foot in the air when I heard the bellboy's voice. Embarrassed to be caught communing with the door, I flushed. "No. Um, thank you."

The brunette looked at me expectantly, and I dug in the pocket of my dress for my room key. I scurried across the hallway and jammed the key card into the door. I nodded at the bellboy over my shoulder and let myself in to my room.

Curious, I listened in on the man's thoughts as he stood outside in the hall. _At least she is a guest here. It would've been awkward as hell to have to throw out another crazy fangbanger after all of the drama the last one caused. _

I quickly tuned him out as he finally turned around and walked back to the elevators. I certainly did not want to hear about that kind of drama. And, hey! I am not a fangbanger! I mean, I am, but I'm not. I dismissed the thought for the moment and headed towards the bathroom.

I stripped out of my dress and underthings and turned on the hot water in the shower. I laid my dress out over the edge of the bathroom counter and set the bag of complementary soaps atop it, too lazy hang it in the closet.

And here I stand. The bathroom mirror is beyond fogged over, and all I can do is think about what happened, and what almost happened. Sighing, I reach to check the temperature of the water when something red against my skin catches my eye.

I bring my hand closer to my face and realize that it is Godric's tear. Oddly enough, it hasn't dried entirely, maybe due to the humidity of the bathroom and the sweat on my skin. Either way, it fascinates me because of what it represents. I know I should wipe it against my thigh or just let the water run its course and carry it down the drain. I move my hand to do just that.

This was almost all that was left of Godric. All that I would have as a tangible reminder that he ever existed. I can't let it disappear down the drain. I bring my palm to my mouth and hesitantly lick the blood off my skin.

At first, I don't taste anything besides the salt of my sweat. Then, it feels like I've been socked in the jaw, but not in an unpleasant way if that makes any sense. You know sometimes when you take a big sip of red wine, the kind that is really old and has a ton of flavor? At first you don't taste much, and then all the sudden you feel that taste in every bit of your mouth, from the back of your mouth where your molars meet your gums and your teeth grind, to the front, where that funny strip of skin above the inside of your lip meets the top of your gum.

If Eric's blood tastes like sex and chocolate and Bill's tastes like pecan pie, then Godric's tastes like caramel and granny smith apples. I lick my palm again, making sure to get every bit off my skin. I feel a jolt, and then a low hum. But it's not like the background noise of a lot of people talking because that's in my head. No, this is coming from somewhere in the middle of my chest and my head all at once.

The shower head spits out a burst of scalding hot water and a cloud of steam bursts upon my face. I shiver, realizing that I've been standing naked in the bathroom for God knows how long. I know that Bill is dead for the day, but I can't help but suddenly feel as though someone is going to walk in on me at any time.

I hop in the shower and wash myself from head to foot as fast as I can. I am suddenly eager to crawl under the covers and rest. I've never been through a day quite like this one, and I'm certainly in no mood to repeat it anytime soon. I jump out of the shower and hurriedly get ready for bed.

As I peel back the sheets and slide between them, I smile, feeling a bit naughty for not putting on a nightgown. I'm sure Bill won't mind. I prop myself up on one arm and look at him. At rest, he looks much younger than when he's up, even when he's with me just talking or making love, that small wrinkle between his eyes never truly disappears as it has now.

Lying back down I frown softly. Bill and I have a lot to discuss when he rises this evening. I can't take surprises like Lorena popping out of nowhere. I need to be able to trust him completely. I've told him so much about myself, and yet I know so little of him.

Unsettled, I roll over on my side facing away from him and turn off my lamp, casting the room into complete darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 3

**A/N Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all of your feedback! I really appreciate it. I've probably said that about a thousand times, but it's SO true. Ya'll are definitely a good reason to keep writing.**

**And I have a beta, yay! KJmom is super awesome, and has an amazing eye for detail. She has the fourth chapter now, and I'll probably post it sometime on Friday.**

**Heads up, this chapter has a bit of slash. I've called it slash on training wheels. There is no sex, but the themes are there. Remember guys, this is ultimately a Sookie/Godric fiction, so if you don't like it, be strong. More chapters are coming.**

**Thanks so much for reading! As always, I value your comments and critiques!**

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Godric's Point of View

_Eric, my Child, it appears we have more time left together after all. _

He no longer needs me. Has not needed me for centuries. Is it possible that I have misinterpreted? That there is more than one kind of need beyond survival?

I run at vampire speed down the several flights of stairs to his floor, and use my room key to let myself into his room. It is fortunate that Eric gave me a copy of his key back at my house after the explosion.

Our bond has faded over time, and I have let it. I no longer feel it when Eric rises or hungers. The bond remains a constant low hum in the back of my mind. I had shut it down entirely while I was at the Fellowship Church compound. I did not want Eric to be able to track me. The last thing I wanted was to be found, and yet my resourceful Child still managed it. I should have known better than to think something could keep Eric from what he wanted.

I silently let myself into Eric's room, shut the door swiftly behind me, and enter the bedroom. Eric, my bright blond warrior is hunched over, sitting on the side of his bed. The twinge I felt from our bond while standing in the stairwell with Miss Stackhouse does not do justice to Eric's silent despair. He does not realize that I have not left him.

Eric has stripped down to his black, scooped tank top and black pants. His pale bare feet stand out starkly against the blackness of the bed skirt. Tracks of bloody tears have etched patterns down his cheeks, and a few lonesome drops have landed on his chest. His head is hanging, his chin almost touching the smoothness of his chest.

I stand before him. It takes at least a minute before he moves in any way. He finally recognizes my feet, and his head pops up so quickly that if he were human, I would worry about brain damage. "Godric." He voices my name reverently, quietly, almost as though he might scare me away.

"Eiríkr," I reply, placing my hand on the side of his head, threading my fingers between the glossy strands of his hair. "Jag är här, mitt Barn." _I am here, my Child._

Unashamed of his tears, Eric looks at me unblinkingly, almost as if he's memorizing my face, although we have spent so many years together he could sculpt my entire body with his eyes closed. He inhales, scenting me, his nostrils flaring. His fangs drop with a snick, and he snarls.

Eric's anger permeates the room, replacing the air with his rage, and even though it is not necessary, I breathe it in, understanding it. Moving at vampire speed, he reaches forward and seized my upper arms, his fingers digging into my skin so hard I can feel the ridges and whorls of his fingerprints. His fingernails break my skin, and the heady perfume of my blood escapes my body, mixing with the scent of his anger. Eric's nostrils flare again, smelling my blood.

I know that he needs it – almost as much as he did the night he first rose a vampire, desperate for the taste of blood. With a jolt, I realize I need this just as much as he. I need to renew our bond; I need to feel Eric more intimately. I have existed for 2,000 years, half of it alone, and I do not want to continue as I am now.

Our time apart has dulled the bond. I thought that this would make him happy. Eric has always been a very independent creature, and I thought he wanted this independence from his Maker.

Eric does not need me to look after him, second-guessing or approving his decisions. Eric is a sheriff in his own right; he earned it, and I am proud of him. I would never do anything to jeopardize his authority or make him look weak in front of his Queen.

However, looking at the situation now, Eric and I have both been weakened by our separation. Eric is the light to my darkness. His vivacity and passion for life, or whatever it is that we have, balances out the depression that has worn on me for so long. We were brought together to serve some purpose, although that purpose remains to be seen.

All these musing flash though my brain faster than a human could have processed a single thought, and I feel at peace with my decision. Locking eyes with Eric, I say, "Eiríkr, dricka." _Eric, drink_. I tilt my head to the side, baring my throat to his sharp fangs and eager gaze.

Eric flashes forward and buries his fangs in my neck, and my own burst forth from my gums. I had forgotten the ecstasy of his bite. I have not shared my blood with anyone since healing Eric after a vicious battle, almost six hundred years ago. I throw my head back with the excruciating pleasure pain of his bite, and fist my fingers in Eric's short hair, tugging with every swallow.

Finally, I can feel Eric again. Our bond springs back to life and grows with each mouthful. Eric's anger that had filled the room morphs into fear and desperation. I can feel Eric's terror and anxiety at the thought of losing me. His feelings swell within me. Needing to strengthen our connection, I rip open the back of his tank top and claw at the smooth skin of Eric's back.

I can feel my blood pouring down Eric's throat, passing through the lining of his stomach and flowing through his arteries and veins. I cannot describe my feeling of elation at once more knowing that it is my blood and magic that sustains my beautiful child.

For some unknown reason, Eric withdraws his fangs and laps at the wounds of my neck until they close. I am not finished yet!

Growling, I shove Eric back on the bed, forcing him to lie back on the bed, with his knees bent over the edge. I straddle his waist and grab both his wrists with my smaller hand, pinning them to the bed above his head. I lean down into him and lick the bloody tears from his face. With my free hand I strip the tattered remains of Eric's tank from his torso.

He nuzzles at my face, trying to bring our mouths together and I growl warningly, forcing him to recognize my dominance. His arms cease straining against my grip and he relinquishes control over to me. I can do anything I want to him and he will let me; he wants it.

Finished with cleaning the blood from his flawless skin, I pause and probe the bond. It is still weak, still straining. It craves fresh blood, Eric's blood. And although the desperation has quieted, the need is still there, growing stronger with every second I resist.

I lean in and lick the curve of Eric's neck, tasting him. I inhale, drawing in the unique scent of cold sea breeze, juniper, and Eric. I bury my fangs in his neck, eager to savor the flavor of his blood. As his rich blood courses down the back of my throat, I shudder against his body.

We are one. We are more than Maker and Child, Father and Son, or blood brothers. We are more than sexual beings, although that is a part of it. We have reached some sort of plateau, and are as we were meant to be.

I lose myself for a minute. Immersing myself in the joy of our deepened bond. I am finally free of the darkness in my chest, of the evil darkness that has crawled under my skin for so long. Between these two blonds, Sookie Stackhouse and my Eiríkr, they have given me the greatest gift of my existence: my freedom.

The bonds of slavery in my human life and even the cruel tyranny of my Maker were nothing to the crushing despair that has befouled my existence for almost as long as I have been a vampire. I hardly know what to do with myself now that this blackness is no longer weighing me down, controlling my every thought and move.

I feel a small jolt, like the blue spark of electricity you see when unplugging a live piece of machinery, and another bond forms. I am not sure what exactly happened, but it drags me out of my internal stupor and back to my body. Eric's head is lolling to the side, and I realize that I have taken a significant amount of blood. However, I am not worried. Eric is old, and his age in combination with my ancient blood will be more than enough to sustain him until sunset.

I draw my fangs out of him and swirl my tongue over the puncture marks, sealing them. I slowly sit up, letting go of Eric's wrists. Sitting astride Eric, I look down at his face. His eyes are glazed over in pleasure, his face slack, fangs protruding from his slightly open mouth.

Smirking slightly in satisfaction, I climb off him and lie down on my side, propping my head up on my arm so that I can keep Eric's face in my line of sight. Blinking twice, Eric regains control of himself and looks over at me. After sharing that experience with him, what can I say?

Eric takes care of that for me, softly saying, "Bra. Nu kan du inte lämna mig." _Good. Now you can't leave me._

Surprised, I still, probing the bond. He speaks the truth. Eric and I are now so tightly bound that if I were to perish, Eric would die along with me. I cannot imagine a world without Eric. I could never be responsible for his death.

I smile softly in acknowledgement. I do not want to talk about what led me to the roof this morning. I do not want that horrible black nightmare to taint our renewed bond.

Eric reaches out and lightly touches my face, before trailing his hand down my neck and tracing the tattoo along my collarbone. It has been so long since he has touched me. I chose long ago to forego this kind of contact. Better not to be touched than to be polluted by grasping hands desiring only sexual favors or personal gain. "Vila, Eiríkr. Du behöver inte förlora mer blod denna dag." I say gently.

Eric nods and moves to his side, facing me. I roll to face away from him. He wraps his arms around me, and I allow him to pull me against his body, much like a nowadays child would clutch a teddy bear. His large frame spoons my body, and he buries his face in my neck.

I place my arms over his as I feel his body relax as he dies for the day. I lie here motionless and think about what happened on the roof. I have never experienced anything like the rapture of Sookie Stackhouse.

It felt like liquid golden light spilled down my throat and landed in the pit of the blackness. The black hole that had dominated my life for so long could not swallow up that shining goodness. Like syrup, her purity poured into my darkness, filling it until it overflowed and spread throughout my entire body. For the first time since my death, I felt warmth from the inside. I did not even notice the feeling of the sun on my skin.

Lying here in bed with Eric, I reach inside myself, tentatively probing for the return of the darkness. It has reemerged, but is barely there, barely noticeable. I would not have been aware of its presence had I not searched.

I imagine that I can still feel that golden light tingling under my skin. I feel an answering hum in my mind, and regardless of whether it is real, I am comforted. Content, I close my eyes and drift off.


	4. Chapter 4

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 4

**A/N Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you continue to stick with the story after this chapter! I felt like Bill and Sookie's relationship deserved more than a trite paragraph. Don't worry! Bill will be gone soon enough!**

**Thank you everyone so much for reviewing! I really enjoy reading your feedback. For those of you who haven't reviewed, I do respond and try to answer your questions and comments.**

**Thanks to my lovely beta, KJmom, who is co-President of Team Awesome! If you're interested in slash, you should check out her work!**

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sookie's Point of View

I wake with a start, gasping for breath. That dream was intense! I dreamt of Eric and Godric's reunion this morning. Although the two men didn't have sex, it was by far the most erotic dream I've had in my life. I was more turned on by it than any of the dreams I've had of Bill. Remembering the sheer emotion passing between the two vampires makes blood rush to my face and I flush, embarrassed.

Remembering that I'm not alone in bed, I roll over, expecting to see Bill still sleeping next to me. Yes, I know he's dead during the day, but it's easier for me to think of him as sleeping really, really hard. The thought of waking up next to the dead body of the man I love just freaks me out.

Bill isn't in bed with me. I sit up in surprise, looking around the room for my boyfriend. Bill is standing at the foot of the bed, staring at me. I guess he was watching me sleep. The dress I wore yesterday is clutched in his fist. "How long did I sleep," I ask, trying to clear the remnants of sleep from my brain.

"It is a quarter after sunset." He says, as though I know when that is. After dating a vampire for a while, you would think I would have a better sense of time. "Sookie," he drawls. "We need to talk."

Dragging the sheet to cover me, I quickly get out of bed. I wrap the sheet around my body in an attempt to cover myself, not that it matters 'cause he's seen the show before. "You bet we do!" Hitching the bottom of the sheet higher so I don't trip, I carefully hobble over to the closet and grab a blue sundress and matching underthings.

Bill's fangs have dropped down in appreciation, but I can't help but notice that the furrow in his brow is even deeper than it was when I got up. I feel strangely vulnerable, and I don't want to have this conversation until I am fully dressed and looking my best. Regardless of the tension in the air, I can't help but notice Bill's stark masculinity, and I smile slightly before darting into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

Setting my clothes down next to the sink, I hesitate before looking at myself in the mirror. I know that I'm going to look like a hot mess. My eyes will be red and puffy from going to sleep right after crying. The skin around my eyes will be swollen with a definite line. I didn't properly remove my make-up, instead letting the harsh Dallas run over my face until I figured it was clean enough. I slept on my wet hair, so it'll be sticking up due to that weird part on the back of my head that I was born with.

I brush my teeth and dress, trying to do everything I can before looking in the mirror. My eyes widen in shock. I look nothing like I should! My skin is clear and my eyes are bright; there is nothing on my face that reflects the amount of trauma and grief I survived yesterday. My blonde hair appears slightly lighter than before, as though I'd spent the last week in the sun.

I realize that I've been staring at myself in the mirror for a while. _You are some kind of vain, Sookie Stackhouse. Get your rear in gear! _I force myself to stop admiring myself in the mirror and finish getting ready. Although there is no sign of the dreaded part, I stick my hair up in a high ponytail and dab on a bit of mascara.

My stomach flutters nervously, and I place both hands over it and take a few deep breaths. I feel a small surge of warmth in my chest and I gasp slightly in surprise. Not wanting to question its presence, I straighten my shoulders, open the door, and exit the bathroom.

Bill hasn't moved except to turn his head to follow my progress throughout the room. I don't want to have this conversation here. I don't want any ugliness next to the bed we've made love in. I walk past him and into the main room, sitting delicately on the edge of the couch, making sure to cross my feet at the ankles.

"So talk, Bill," I start, the words coming out more hostile than I'd intended. "What actually happened with Lorena? Is she the reason you didn't come to me when I needed you? Why haven't you told me about her before?"

Bill sits down on the coffee table facing me, slightly uncomfortable by his placement. "Sookie, I am truly sorry that I was not there for you, that I could not be there to rescue you from the Fellowship. As I told you before, Lorena was holding me hostage. I was just as trapped as you.

"She is my Maker, and no matter how much I struggled, she overpowered me. I was only able to escape when she was surprised." While saying this, Bill maintains eye contact, and I can tell he is being honest.

I lean forward and take his hand. "Bill, I understand. I forgive you for not coming to me before. I just don't understand why you haven't told me before. It's like she was some great secret. A Maker is a huge part of a vampire's life.

"I've told you everything about me – shared my darkest secrets, the most horrible and repugnant parts of my past. I feel like you're keeping things from me." My eyes fill with tears and I try to will them away so I can make my next point.

"I've faced death and rape, and seen a vampire dissolve into nothing but a steaming pile of blood and flesh before my eyes. I've born witness to all of these things. I am a strong woman. Whatever you're keeping from me can't be more terrible than all of that." Finally, I allow the tears to streak down my face as my voice lowers to a trembling whisper.

"Sookie Stackhouse, you are one of the strongest women I've ever had the privilege to know." Bill says and reaches forward slowly with his free hand to catch my tears. I don't want him to have them. Something in my gut is screaming that it doesn't feel right. Moving faster than I probably have a right to, I brush the tears from my face.

Looking startled and somewhat hurt, Bill continues, "Darling, I never meant to treat my past as a secret from you. I hate that you feel that way. My past is filled with things that I am not proud of. However, I will answer any questions you have for me. I love you, and I will not have secrets between us."

Feeling relieved, I ask, "What about Lorena? Do you love her?"

"What?" He barks in surprise and horror, "No! I do not love that woman, he says vehemently. He stands abruptly and silently paces the room a few times before returning. "I will not lie to you. I did love her at one time." My heart breaks a little as he says this, but I nod at him to continue.

"My sun," he says bitterly, "rose and set on her and her whims. I did her bidding like a mindless puppet. We hunted and killed, and rutted and bathed in human blood like animals."

My mouth falls open in shock at this revelation. Bill stops for a moment, looking torn between wanting to protect me from this horrible recitation and being angry and wanting to punish me by continuing.

He shakes his head as if making up his mind, before softening the blow, "But over time, after decades, my conscience returned to me. It was like surfacing from a never-ending nightmare. Each night I rose and took up the cause, battling against her will. One night, I realized that I did not love Lorena. I was a slave to her will. It wasn't until I fell in love with you that I knew what love really was."

He sits down on the coffee table and I immediately place my hand in his, squeezing gently. "Oh, Bill."

He squeezes back, sitting up a little straighter and keeps talking, "I stopped killing with her, and refused to drink blood. She would try to tempt me, but I found that I was able to resist the call. But despite this strength, I feared that I would be trapped with her forever. Unable to bear it, I told her that I would kill myself unless she let me go."

I shake my head wordlessly, heartbroken by his suffering. "It was then that she released me. I drifted, never staying in one place for any length of time. I was alone and without feelings until I met you, Sookie Stackhouse. You brought me back to life; you have made me a man again.

"I love you. _That _is the truth. No more secrets." He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, before lowering it again.

I lean forward and kiss him softly before repeating, "No more secrets. I love you too." I kiss him again gently, my arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders as I scoot to the edge of the couch in an attempt to get closer to him. He kneels before me, his fingers twining themselves in my hair. Our kisses grow more passionate. "Mine," he growls into my mouth.

I sigh and pull back, as much as I can. "Bill, you know that I'm not your possession. I'm a person, with my own will."

He too pulls away, and his hands slide down along my arms until they stop, lightly gripping my forearms. "Sookie, you do not understand vampire culture. You are mine according to vampire law. However, you smell like Eric. He polluted you."

I try to pull my arms away. My voice is high pitched as I sputter, "Polluted me?" I take a couple of deep breaths and attempt to will myself not to get angry. "Believe me, Bill. I'm not thrilled that Eric tricked me into drinking his blood. It was dirty and underhanded, which is synonymous with Eric in general, but I'm _not _polluted. No more so than when you polluted me with _your _blood. I'm still your Sookie."

While I've been talking the pressure of his hands on my forearms has been increasing, and it is now reaching a point of serious pain, "Bill! Let me go!"

He growls into my face, "You are mine, Sookie, and I will not. . ." He breaks off when he realizes that I'm referring to my arms. He drops my arms as if I'm on fire and rises angrily, "I did not pollute you. You are mine, and I have every right to give you my blood!" He is practically spitting out the words.

Fuming, I sit in silence. I am so tired of hearing the words, "You are mine." I get it. It's arcane vampire bullshit for my protection, but it doesn't need to invade our personal lives. I don't wanna fight with him, but I also won't be walked over.

After passing at least a minute in silence, which for me is a substantial amount of time, I meet Bill's eyes and say, "I want you to stay away from Eric. Don't start something over this blood thing. What's done is done. Hopefully, the effects will ear off soon. It wasn't that much blood after all."

Bill sits heavily down next to me and sighs. "All right. Besides, I almost feel bad for him for losing Godric. He must have meant something to Eric. I have never seen Eric display real emotion before."

Stunned, I turn to Bill and exclaim, "Godric isn't dead!"

Bill freezes, and that creepy vampire stillness seems to seep down his body until there is absolutely no motion coming from the being next to me. Finally, movement. He asks in a voice I've never heard from him before, "What?"

"I stopped him. I was with Godric on the roof when the sun rose, but somehow I blocked the sun. I protected Godric!" I sit there proudly with a grin on my face.

Bill disappears and reappears a second later. He is now standing before me, my dress from yesterday again wadded in his fist. "Is that why your dress reeks of him," he accuses angrily. "It smells like you more than just touched him."

I'm confused, and reply slowly, "I did block the sun with my body, but I certainly didn't hang myself all over him."

He buries his face in my dress and inhales, before crumpling it into a small ball. "What did you do, Sookie? Cover his cool body with your luscious curves? Envelop him in your warmth? Rub yourself on him like a cat in heat!" He throws my dress on the floor dramatically.

"Bill Compton, you take that back!" I stand angrily. "Yes, I did try to block the sun from hitting him. I couldn't just let him burn! And I don't think it was my shadow that saved him."

Bill grips my forearms again, and I swallow back the cry of pain, too angry to let him see that he hurt me. He grits out, "What did you do, Sookie?"

The room phone rings, but we don't move. I am so mad that I'm panting and shaking like some kind of crazy woman. The phone finally quiets. However, the cell phone in Bill's breast pocket picks up where the room phone leaves off. I raise my eyebrows, daring him not to answer it. The song "Hard Hearted Hannah" fills the charged air between us. On the second chorus, his phone goes silent.

Then, someone knocks on the door. Bill lifts his upper lip and snarls, but releases my arms and tucks in his shirt, attempting to gather himself together as he moves at human speed to answer the door. Bill yanks the door open, and drops his fangs as soon as he sees who is standing there. "What," he growls.

Eric is standing at our door, dressed impeccably in pale gray slacks and a black, long-sleeve button-down shirt. I can't help the fluttering of my insides as I run my eyes up and down his body. He seems to notice, and preens a little at the attention. I snap a scowl on my face.

He nods at Bill and addresses me, "Your presence is required; his as well." He jerks his head to indicate Bill. Before I can open my mouth, he continues, "Don't look at me that way, Sookie. I know better than to order you about like that. Nan Flanagan has returned. When I give you orders, Sookie, you'll like them."

I heave a sigh. This evening just gets better and better. Giving myself a chance to think, I brush out the full skirt of my dress. I walk to the door, holding my head high and letting my pony-tail bounce, I flounce past Bill and Eric, who has moved out of my way. Refusing to acknowledge either of their presences. Yes, I flounced. It's a skill all southern belles are born with, and can only be properly performed while wearing a full skirt.

I come up short in the hallway as I realize that I don't know which direction to walk. Eric rapidly catches up to me and offers me his arm, which I refuse for many reasons. Primarily because although I am pissed as hell at Bill, there's no need to be petty. Eric shrugs, as if to say, "Suit yourself," and walks down the hall to the elevators. I follow him, and Bill comes behind me.

And like a twisted scene from the Wizard of Oz, we are off to see Nan Flanagan. What does she want?


	5. Chapter 5

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 5

**A/N Hey everyone! Thank you so much for reviewing! Your reviews really spur me on to update much faster than I originally planned! I can't tell ya'll how exciting it is to find a review sitting in my inbox. Please let me know what ya'll are enjoying and what you think I can work on!**

**Thank you so much to my beta, KJmom, who is incredibly supportive and excited about my story!**

**I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter! It was a challenge to write.**

o-o-o-o-o-o

Eric's Point of View

I smirk as I lead Sookie and Bill down the hallway to the elevators. It seems as though there is trouble brewing between the two. All the better for me. I won't deny wanting Sookie for myself, but she seems to be good for Godric. I feel a spark of jealousy as I think about the fact that it was Sookie who saved Godric. It hurts to know that my pleas weren't enough to change his mind.

Godric sends me a wave of reassurance through our bond, and my smirk turns into a small smile before I wipe all expression from my face. I already revealed too much of myself to Bill last night. He does not need to see my weakness.

As we all step into the elevator and I press the button to Nan's floor, I inhale Sookie's scent. She smells almost as sweet as when I first met her. Although I am distressed at how much she reeks of Bill. I smile internally in dark satisfaction as I detect an undertone of my own scent in Sookie. Strangely, I detect another faint, crisp scent under mine, and wonder at its origin.

We exit the elevator and troop down the hall to Nan's penthouse suit. Before I can knock, one of Nan's flunkies opens the door and steps aside.

Godric and Isabel are already seated on the plush leather couch. I sit next to Godric and spread my arm along the back of the couch behind him and settle in. After the drama of last night, nothing Nan can say or do can upset me. My Maker is safe and will be accompanying me back to Louisiana.

I stifle a laugh as Bill and Sookie take their seats. They are forced to sit together on the love seat, seeing as though Nan's throne-like chair is the only other option. Sookie sits first, daintily tucking her skirt and crossing her feet at the ankles. Bill sits down stiffly, completely failing to appear casual. He drapes his arm behind Sookie, attempting and failing to mimic my pose. Sookie's displeasure with Bill is obvious, as she scoots forward to sit on the edge of the loveseat, her back ramrod straight. I know Godric feels my amusement because he sends me a wave of disapproval.

Nan keeps us waiting for over ten minutes, and the silence stretches. Sookie shifts in her seat. It must be uncomfortable for a human to sit in that position for so long. Finally, Sookie breaks the silence by addressing Isabel, "So, um, how's the transition going?"

Isabel appears slightly surprised to be asked so directly, and so she replies honestly, "It is going well. Little needs to be done besides choosing the location of the new nest. Godric ran the area smoothly and was kind enough to eliminate any potential problems last night. He was truly an excellent Sheriff. I hope I can do as well for the area." She smiles and looks at Godric, who feels but hides his surprise. He nods at her in acknowledgement.

Sensing that there are good feelings in the room, Nan enters, probably just to disperse them. As she seats herself with more ceremony than she is worth, another vampire enters the room. My fangs drop in anger and shock before I force them back up.

Lorena Krasiki has the audacity to return to Dallas. Sensing the very real danger she is in, Lorena darts behind Nan's chair and smiles tauntingly. Godric's face darkens and he says softly, "Nan, I banished this woman from my area. What is she doing here?"

Nan smirks and says snarkily, "It isn't your area anymore, Godric, now is it?"

Bitch! How dare she speak to Godric with so little respect? I snarl, and at the same time Isabel opens her mouth to speak.

Nan cuts her off, "Don't bother Sheriff. Lorena is attending me as part of my official retinue, and will leave when I do." Lorena's smile broadens, and I'm tempted to rip her head off so I no longer have to look at it. Nan continues, "I ran into her at DFW airport, and once I bothered listening to what she had to say, I was pleasantly surprised."

Nan's smile widens predatorily. "Sookie Stackhouse, you _are_ more than what meets the eye."

Sookie blanches, terrified, and blindly reaches out at her side to take Bill's hand. My mind races. Lorena must have found out about Sookie's telepathy and told Nan.

Nan eyes Sookie, and I can read both physical desire and a lust for power in her gaze. "A telepath – that would certainly prove useful to myself or the Authority."

Bill bares his fangs and hisses, "Sookie is mine!"

"Bullshit. Stow it, Compton. You have failed your Queen and attacked your Maker. You have no voice here. I have spoke with the Magister and you are seriously fucked." Nan is clearly relishing this moment.

I have considered myself an excellent strategist ever since my human years, and have prided myself on anticipating my enemy's moves, but I did not see this coming. How is the Queen involved? What does she know of Sookie Stackhouse? What has Bill failed to do?

Lorena's laugh shatters the stunned silence and she claps her hands giddily. "I knew it! For shame, Bill. Trying to sneak an asset out of your Sheriff's area!"

Sookie. Bill was going to take Sookie from me and deliver her to the Queen. The anger building in my breast is doubled and redoubled through my bond with Godric. His rage and disgust feeding my own like a long dead forest meeting a wildfire, feeding each other like a battery.

Suddenly a sharp stab of pain in my chest cuts through the red blaze of my fury. The agony is so strong that I look down to see whether I have been injured. It takes me a second to realize that the pain is not my own, but Sookie's.

Against my instinctual desire to keep the threat in my view, my gaze is drawn to Sookie to see how she is. Her eyes well up with tears, but she blinks rapidly, shooing them away. It is clear that despite her lack of knowledge of vampire politics, Sookie knows that Bill has somehow betrayed her. "Bill," she asks, "what are they saying?"

Bill opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Nan is more than happy to oblige, and she sneers, "Your boyfriend – "

Sookie's head whips towards Nan and she raises her hand in a stop gesture. "Shut. Up." Sookie turns back to Bill and places her hands demurely in her lap, but I can see that she is squeezing them together so tightly that her knuckles are turning white. "Bill?" She implores him to speak.

Bill closes his mouth, then reopens it and begins to explain, "Sookie, I never meant to hurt you." I can barely keep my eyes from rolling.

I can feel Sookie's anxiety rise. Bill continues unable to meet her gaze, "I was sent to Bon Temps by the Queen of Louisiana."

Sookie's natural curiosity rears its head, but she lets her question go.

"The Queen sent me because she received intelligence that there might be a telepath living in the area; you." His face is pained, and I cannot tell whether it is genuine. I'm not willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I was to ascertain whether you had any powers and how strong they were. If, indeed, you did have the ability to read minds, I was to make you grow. . . fond of me, so that you would not resist relocating or at least visiting New Orleans. Once we arrived there, I had orders to bring you to the Queen."

My fangs burst from my gums so forcefully that they almost puncture my bottom lip. _Oäkta! Hur vågar__han försöka__stjäla__Sookie__från oss? Hon tillhör__Godric__och mig._ _(Bastard! How dare he try to steal Sookie from us? She belongs to Godric and me.)_ My anger burns so brightly that only Godric's silent Maker's Command restrains me from attacking Compton.

Sookie stares down at her hands and asks bitterly, "And she was going to do what, Bill? Enslave me? Make me her puppet? Or was she going to dispense with my human frailty and just turn me?"

Bill protests, "Sookie, it was not going to be like that. I admit, I did not love you at first, but ever since I fell for you I have been working to hide you from her. I have been trying to figure out a way to keep you from her. I will protect you!"

_To steal a word from Nan: Bullshit Compton!_ Sookie's head pops up as Bill spurts off his lies. "And how were you going to protect me from the Queen of your state Bill? Lie? I mean, you're already so good at it! That's exactly what you did downstairs when you told me, 'No more secrets.'" Sookie mimics Bill's voice quite well. That might be a useful talent sometime.

Nan breaks in, bored by the lover's quarrel, "Yes, Compton, do continue. Tell me exactly how you were planning to defy your Queen."

Bill flinches, and he folds in on himself like wet cardboard. He is stuck, ruined. He dug his grave, and now he has to lie in it. Whenever I envisioned Bill losing Sookie, I always felt triumphant, but because of my blood bond with Sookie, all I can feel is her terrible pain.

"That's what I thought," Nan gloats. "Now, since you have clearly failed or defied your Queen, take your pick, and because the lovely Miss Stackhouse is outside the sovereign territory of Louisiana," she pauses. "I daresay she doesn't belong to Compton anymore."

She has baited her trap cleverly, and before I can warn Sookie, she responds vehemently "Hell no, I don't!"

Nan continues smoothly, "And since no vampire claims ownership of Miss Stackhouse and has given her their blood to back up that assertion, I claim her in the name of the Authority."

A look of complete horror spreads over Sookie's face as she realizes the position she has placed herself in. How can she think that I would abandon her to this fate? "I claim Sookie. She is mine!" Just saying those words, claiming her in reality instead of my head gives me a thrill. Sookie's expression reflects her conflict between relief at being safe from the Authority, anger at being claimed as mine (_Good luck getting away from me now, Miss Stackhouse_), and hurt at Bill's betrayal.

Nan smirks, "Uh uh, Viking. I wouldn't do that if I were you. If you claim Miss Stackhouse, as Bill's immediate superior, you are duty bound to finish his task and deliver her to your Queen. And I'm almost positive that no one in this room wants that."

_Fitta!_ I did not see this coming. My mind races as I consider various possibilities. I can always kill Nan, but that won't solve the long term problem of the Authority. I can step down as Sheriff of Area 5, but I would have to surrender my properties in the state, and I would have to start entirely over somewhere else. I can do it, I've done it before, but it would be a real challenge to start now with Sookie and Godric in tow. Pam will have to leave Louisiana immediately before the Queen can retaliate. I glance over at Sookie calculatingly; she is going to put up a hell of a fight at the idea of leaving Louisiana.

Resolved, I open my mouth to announce my resignation, but stop immediately as I see Godric shake his head sharply out of the corner of my eye. My Maker knows exactly what I was thinking.

All of my planning has taken less than the span of two heartbeats, and before Nan can continue Sookie squeaks out, "I've had Godric's blood!"

Dead silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 6

**A/N Thanks everyone for the reviews! I read and appreciate every one of them. It's cool to get the opportunity to know ya'll a bit. Sorry that this one is a little short. I hope you'll forgive me when you get to chapter 7.**

**Thanks to my lovely beta KJmom, who keeps me sane and knows how to push me for more!**

o-o-o-o-o

Godric's Point of View

Eric throws himself through the air towards Sookie, his hands curled into claws. I feel such complete rage and jealousy burning through our bond that I do not know whether Eric is attacking her on purpose or whether he is lost to instinct. I move a split second after him, and beat Eric to Sookie. I crouch over her in a protective stance and growl a warning to my Child.

Eric is too far gone to see me as anything but an obstacle and he snarls at me, spittle dripping from his fangs. I must put an end to this before I have to hurt him. I spring into the air, wrap my hand around Eric's throat, and slam him to the ground. Of course, there was a glass coffee table in between my Child and the floor, but that is insignificant.

Eric's eyes are wild, and he thrashes in my grip. I lean into him until I fill his vision. I say in a strong, low voice, "Eiríkr, mitt Barn. Stanna upp och tänka på vad du gör. Kom tillbaka till dig själv. Du är skrämmande Sookie. Jag behöver dig i denna stund." _Eric, my Child. Stop and think about what you are doing. Come back to yourself. You are frightening Sookie. I need you in this moment._

I realize that it is true. Eric is a brilliant strategist. But more importantly I need his support. I have not given my blood to anyone other than Eric in my 2,000 years as a vampire. I know Miss Stackhouse is speaking the truth. Now that I know it is there, I can feel my blood, the small bit that it is, coursing through her veins.

I recognize the jolt I felt while drinking from Eric as Sookie forging her own connection with me. Whether it was formed through an exchange of magic or tears I do not know. But I am positive that there has never been another bond like it.

I have always thought that the blood was the only sacred thing vampires possess. But this morning Sookie Stackhouse taught me differently. The gift of her tear brought me a sense of peace and filled me with a bliss I thought never to feel. How can I begrudge her my blood and every other part of me?

My blackness has changed from an aching depression to a beast I can fight. The beast inside rears its head and roars at this unfamiliar notion of unselfishness. I can feel it building within me, and before it can gather more strength I tamp it down. Forcing it back to the blackness where it belongs, confining it behind lock and key.

While I wage my internal battle, Eric's struggles cease, and his eyes regain the wicked intelligence I love so well. I let him up and stand to survey the room. Nan and Isabel have not moved. Isabel watches with a sense of worry, while Nan seems to look upon the scene with disdain.

Sookie has crossed the room and is standing near the door. I have no doubt that she would already be on the other side and down the hall if there was not a guard there. It appears as though Bill tried to go after Sookie, but it is difficult to say, considering that Lorena has all but crawled in his lap. Bill is struggling uselessly to get away.

I return to my seat on the couch. Eric looks about the room, much like I did. He brushes bits of glass and metal from his pants before strolling back to the couch. I suppress my internal sense of amusement at his casual actions, and greet him with a face of displeasure. He cannot lose control like that in such a delicate situation, and as my Child, he can never act against me in open defiance.

I allow him to approach, and he sits, hunkering down and lowering his head deferentially. Although Eric will never physically appear my inferior, he is able to convey it through subtleties. I have long since given up my once fervent desire to appear older or larger.

Nan crooks her finger at the guard standing at the door. He places both hands on Miss Stackhouse's shoulders and forces her back to us, leaving her standing, to complete our little circle of furniture. I suppress a snarl as he touches her, knowing that I have not claimed her as my own.

I try to think quickly, examining my options. I do not have much time before Nan attempts to force me into a decision. If I claim Sookie Stackhouse as mine, what are the repercussions? Would she even accept me?

Nan cuts off my reverie, "Well, that certainly changes things." She eyes Stackhouse consideringly, and asks seriously, "Godric of Gaul, do you claim this woman?"

I do not even hesitate, to do otherwise would show weakness. "I do. Sookie Stackhouse is mine. The Stackhouse family is under my protection."

"Family?" Nan Flanagan looks slightly taken aback. "There are more of them? Do they share her particular gift?"

Sookie interrupts our conversation, no doubt feeling protective. "I have a brother, Jason. He doesn't have any gifts unless you count being able to charm his way into women's beds." She reddens, realizing to whom she is speaking, "Present company excluded, of course ma'am."

Entertained, Nan lets out a bark of laughter before replying, "Naturally." She turns to me, "Something tells me that you're going to have your hands full with this human. She has no sense of self-preservation, and she doesn't heel as easily as I first believed."

I nod, knowing when to keep my mouth shut. Nan regains her bitchiness like a knight arming for battle. "William Compton," she drawls in mockery.

I look over to where he is sitting, and see that he has managed to extract himself from Lorena's clutches by climbing over the back of the couch. "Your crimes are quite egregious, and I understand that you have already gone before the Magister this year."

I pay particular attention to this, as I had not known he was recently punished. "The Magister is particularly disappointed that he could not preside over a second sentence, but he has granted me the power to fulfill his role."

Her smile widens evilly, and I must admit to being excited to hear his punishment. I am torn between loathing Compton for causing Sookie Stackhouse such tremendous pain, and being grateful to him. I have some strange sense that without him, Sookie Stackhouse would not have become a part of me.

Now that I have acknowledged my bond to her, I can feel her despair radiating through me, and I dare not fantasize about what I would do to Compton for fear that my beast might emerge once more.

"Since you have such a clear aversion to her, and she is amenable," Nan pauses, letting the tension build. "You are to rebind yourself to your Maker, Lorena Krasiki, and remain at her side until she decides you have learned proper obedience and loyalty, or 100 years pass."

Bill's face is awash in horror. He is well and truly trapped. I would pity him if his Maker was truly a monster, but I know that Lorena is merely warped with age and still obsessed with her progeny. My feelings do not stop me from recognizing a feeling of pity radiate through Sookie, before a strong sense of self-recrimination wipes all compassion from her, and a general sense of shock settles in.

Lorena jumps up and rounds the couch, eager to take possession of her toy. In his last moment of freedom, Bill looks at Eric and croaks out, "I release Jessica." Lorena grips his arm an instant later, but not before the magic of Bill's statement bursts over us.

"No!" Lorena shrieks and stomps her foot. She crushes his wrist and turns to Nan, expecting Bill to receive some further punishment.

Nan shrugs, as if to say, "She wasn't part of the bargain." Lorena's ire increases, and I am sure that Compton will pay dearly for his last defiance. She drags Bill deeper into the suite until she reaches a bedroom, all the while increasing the pressure on his injured wrist.

Nan looks rapidly to Isabel and says, "As Sheriff of the area and a," she pauses, "disinterested witness, you will sign documentation bearing witness to Godric's claim and Compton's punishment. As for the rest of you, get out."


	7. Chapter 7

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 7

**A/N Thank you everyone for reviewing! I can't express how thankful I am that ya'll take the time to review my story! I really appreciate all of your thoughts and feedback.**

**A portion of this chapter was inspired by the fanfiction Godric of Brigantia. If you enjoy this chapter, I strongly recommend that you read that story. **

**Fun facts: The name "Atol" means "hateful," and "Eldred" means "Wise Advisor." Intarabus was actually a god to the Treverans. The name means "between rivers." The only thing we know about him comes from a broken statue.**

**As always, thank you to my fabulous beta, KJmom, co-president of Team Awesome!**

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sookie's Point of View

I walk into the hallway, stumbling slightly as my foot catches on the door jam. Godric grasps my elbow, and I nod in thanks, not raising my eyes from the ground. Eric takes the lead and I shuffle down the hallway to the elevators. A pleasant, numbness has set in, and with each step, I feel a little bit more like myself.

By the time we reach the elevators, I have assumed some sense of self, pushing away the pain to deal with later. I turn to Eric and say, "I need to talk to Jason. He should know at least the basics of what's going on. What's his room number?"

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a whoosh. I am still waiting for Eric's response as we step inside. "Three twenty-three," he responds, and I try to ignore the "but" that is coming.

I reach for the button to the third floor, when Eric says, "He isn't there, Sookie. I sent him back to Bon Temps."

"You did what?" I ask slowly, as though I was speaking English for the first time. My hand starts to shake as it hovers over the button.

Eric replies coolly, "His presence was no longer necessary, and he had filled my room's voicemail with messages attesting to his boredom, so I booked a flight for him. He left about an hour ago."

Hearing that Jason is gone is the that straw that broke the camel's back. I had hoped for a hug, a familiar face, something safe, and now Eric has ripped it away from me. Godric gently reaches forward and presses the button to our floor, before taking my hand and guiding it to his arm, like a gentleman escorts a lady.

The comforting numbness that settled over me has disappeared in a puff of smoke, and I feel hollow. Before I know it, we are in Eric and Godric's room and I've been standing here alone in silence.

Eric appears before me. "I'm sorry, Sookie."

I don't think I've ever heard him apologize for anything, and right now I can't bring myself to care. Now that the numbness is gone, my anger from earlier bubbles up inside me, and a fit of rage sweeps over me, unlike anything I have felt before, and Eric has presented himself as the perfect target.

"You're sorry? You're sorry!" I yell, my voice and pitch increasing with every syllable. "You're sorry what, Eric? Sorry that you gave me your blood? Cause I'm guessing that's a no. How about sorry that I almost got raped and killed? That's a natch too, cause it happened while I was trying to save your maker."

I can feel my face flushing in anger as I stare up into Eric's face. "Oh, no, I have it this time, you're sorry that Bill beat you to my virginity? Hmmm, that doesn't sound right. You're sorry that Bill betrayed me and broke my heart? I don't believe that any more than I believe I could throw you across the room! You're probably overjoyed that he's gone and I'm yours for the taking!"

I take two steps forward, and am almost screaming into his face, "Oh, right, I'm Godric's now. And thank God for that! Because not even you and your almighty Viking self could protect me from your Queen!"

My chest is heaving and I'm staring straight into Eric's face. A series of emotions pass over his face. I'm too angry to analyze the fact that he actually felt something because of me. He looks down at me, the lines of his face settling into something inscrutable. Then, he disappears and I hear the door close behind him a second later.

My legs collapse out from under me, but before I can crash to the ground like the wreckage of my life, Godric catches me. He slips one arm under my knees and another behind my back and lifts me bridal style. One minute my life is collapsing around me, and now I feel almost instantly calm and protected, and somehow I know that what I'm feeling is not caused by his blood, but simply his presence.

Godric cradles me close, and I breathe in deeply inhaling his cloying scent. I lay my head on his chest, right above where his heart would beat. I feel a slight vibration, but can hear nothing. He holds me for I don't know how long, letting me gather myself together. I think of nothing but the sensations I'm feeling. I can feel my blood pulse through my body, my skin jumping in time with my heart everywhere it makes contact with Godric's cold skin.

Finally, he moves, carrying me into the bedroom and laying me gently down on the massive bed. "You should rest, Sookie," he says softly before turning and moving at almost vampire speed to the door.

I sit up. "No!" I call out, desperate for him not to leave me. His presence has brought me a sense of peace, and I'm afraid that if he goes I'll fall apart and never be able to pull myself together again.

He pauses, before turning back to me and coming to the side of the bed. "What do you want of me, Little One?"

I shift to sit up with my back against the headboard of the bed and sit cross-legged, tucking my dress around me to make sure I'm not flashing my panties at him. I pat the spot next to me. "Will you stay with me for a little while? I can't sleep yet."

I look down at my feet and realize that I'm still wearing my shoes. I take them off, unwilling to look and see whether Godric has left. As I lean over to drop my shoes on the floor next to far side of the bed I feel his weight settle into the mattress, and I sigh in relief.

I settle back into my spot and I feel his soothing presence next to me. We sit side-by-side, facing straight ahead. The silence stretches, but it's not awkward. Godric breaks the silence by speaking, "Eric is not to blame for this, you know."

I sigh heavily. "I know, Godric. I really do. I just can't help myself sometimes. There is just something about Eric that crawls under my skin and makes me anxious. Sometimes he makes me so mad I could just scream." I feel my heart rate picking up. I turn to Godric and ask, "Do we have to talk about Eric right now? I know he is important to you, but right now I really need to focus on something else."

Godric shifts his body to face me, and the V of his shirt splits, revealing the tattoo across his collarbone. "What would you have of me?"

I meet his eyes before blushing and looking away. My gaze slides down the smooth line of his jaw and along his neck. I am filled with a strange desire to lick the bob of his adam's apple, but I know it is far too soon for both of us. I force my eyes downward and am struck by the exposed skin of his chest.

I reach forward, drawn by the stark contrast of the blackness of his tattoo against the almost white glow of his skin. As the tips of my fingers brush his skin, Godric releases a puff of air from his lungs, and I jerk my hand away, afraid that by touching him I have crossed some important boundary of his.

Before I can draw my hand back, Godric snatches it and presses my hand flat to his chest. "Don't stop," he commands softly.

I move my hand to touch the pattern of his tattoo, but am hindered by his shirt. My hand is forced to break contact with him as he shucks his shirt over his head. I close the small distance with my hand, and follow the path of black ink from the top of one shoulder to another.

"You have no idea how good that feels," he breathes. "To be touched for the simple joy of contact. No accompanying demands or desires, no need or lust, just skin against skin."

I trace the intricate design again, following each pointed line. Mesmerized by the feeling of his cool flesh. "How did you get this?" I ask, curious.

He sighs more heavily this time, drawing my gaze back to his face. His eyelashes flutter open. I have been so drawn to his chest that I hadn't noticed that he closed his eyes. "Do you really want to know? My history is not a pretty one." He says.

I nod and say, "Yes, please tell me. I want to know more about you. Nan said you were from Gaul, right? All I know about Gaul is that there were a bunch of tribes there and they were taken over by the Roman Empire."

I scooch a bit closer to the headboard and sit up straight. Determined to pay close attention, I pull my hand back and place it in my lap. Godric isn't having any of that, and reaches and takes my hand in his own. "Good, Sookie," He nods at me appreciatively and continues. "I estimate that I was born around 22 BC in what is now known as Triers, Germany, next to the Moselle River."

"I was a member of a tribe known as the Treveri, which roughly translates to 'the ferrymen.' Julius Caesar conquered my tribe along with the rest of Gaul during the Gallic Wars in 51 BC. So by the time I was born, my tribe was already heavily influenced by the Romans. I was the son of what you would consider a nobleman, which is the meaning of the tattoo you are so fascinated with.

"The Caesars labeled most of Western Europe as Gaul, but we were many tribes with different backgrounds. We Treveri did not consider ourselves to be Gallic, but of Germanic descent. Our tribe was an oligarchy."

I stare at him blankly, unfamiliar with the word. The corner of his mouth twitches and he explains, "Ruled by noblemen and the druids. You have to understand how big a change it was. Even though I was born after we were conquered, I felt the tension between the old and new.

"Imagine that most of the land in your small town was bought out by a group of rich New Yorkers. So the Mayor and respected members of society are scrambling to fit in with this new elite class. The church that you've been going to all your life is replaced with a new one that slaps new titles on your old practices. And anyone holding to the old religion is abhorred and reviled as an embarrassment.

Suddenly, your people stop wearing blue jeans and plaid shirts, exchanging them for three piece suits and fedoras." He sighs and mutters, "I miss fedoras." I smile a little as I try to picture Godric dressed up like a detective in a black and white movie.

"My father was one of the more important members of the tribe, and he blended in with the Romans as though he was born one. He even changed his name from Atol to Atolus. Imagine a man you have known all your life as Bob changed his name to Robert. It felt wrong.

"My father raised me in the Roman style. He purchased a Greek servant to teach me at home. I was taught Roman law and customs as well as to read and write in Latin and Gaul. But my life was not easy; I was trained to fight so that I could fulfill my father's dream and serve in the Roman army."

Surprised, I interrupt Godric, "But what about your tattoos? I thought you were Celtic."

Godric arches his eyebrow, and the gesture reminds me so much of Eric that I have to laugh. I guess I know where Eric got it from. Seeing that his look is producing the opposite effect that he intended, Godric smiles and says, "Yes, Eric did pick up that expression from me. He certainly did not burst from the earth the vampire he is today. But Eric is a story for another day.

"Yes, my tattoos are Celtic in origin. The Treveri were polytheistic," and before I can ask, he explains. "We believed in many different gods, but the Romans swallowed them into their own pantheon. So that the god you might know as Mars or Aries, was added to one of our gods, to become Lenus Mars. He was a healing god and a god of war, and we considered him our tribal protector, along with his consort Ankambona."

"Oh goodness!" I exclaim. "I don't think I could pronounce that if I tried five times. It sounds so natural coming from you though."

He smiles slightly, "It should. It is my native language, even if I have not spoken it in more than a thousand years." I can't imagine not speaking English for so long. It must be difficult to live that way.

Godric resumes, "My father was a consummate politician, and did not resent the Romans for taking over our land, culture, and religion. His father, my grandfather, Eldred, strongly resisted the Roman influence. My grandfather, you see, was a druid."

I gasp, "You mean the men who wore antlers and did human sacrifice?"

He frowns and moves to sit facing me with his legs straight out, dropping my hand. Godric is actually beautiful when he frowns, which is kinda crazy when you think about it. So I don't, and focus instead on the fact that I said something to upset him.

"Sookie," Godric begins. "Druidry, at least as I knew it, was nothing like how history has portrayed it. We did not sacrifice anyone, nor did we mutilate beasts like the Romans. This was Roman propaganda. My grandfather and his fellow had resisted the Roman dominance of our culture, and even fought against the Empire in the Gallic wars. My grandfather was injured in one of the battles, and was forced to retire his weapons. That is when he devoted himself to druidry. The Emperor Tiberius, who ruled after my death, passed a law banning druidism from Rome and its territories.

"Then, somehow during the Victorian Era in Britain, the idea of the mystical druids became popular. But instead of appreciating druidry as it actually was, the British fell in love with the idea of midnight rituals and human sacrifice. The perversion of my grandfather's peaceful religion was horrible. The bloodier the tale, the more popular it became. Any bloodletting I did occurred only after I became a vampire."

I realize that I've been petting Godric's chest through his narration, so I stop and pull my knees up to my chest and tug my dress down over them. "Were you a druid then, Godric?"

He relaxes slightly as I accept his explanation of druidry, and answers my question just like a vampire: "Yes and no." Upon my look of confusion, he clarifies, "Druid was actually a title that was given to highly regarded members of the community who performed important religious and social functions like weddings, trials, or holy days. I was in training to become a druid when I was turned."

I remain confused, "But what about your dad? I thought you were supposed to go into the army?"

The corner of his lip curls up in a partial smile as he says, "Little One, if you would be patient I will explain it to you."

I huff and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the headboard feeling mutinous. _Inquiring minds want to know!_ He laughs and vamp-speeds forward to grab both of my hands out of their prison and kissing the back of each gently. Girlishly, I think about never washing my hands again, but toss that idea out the window before it takes me down a road I'm not ready for.

Godric re-settles himself, stretching out his legs so that his feet touch the headboard. I scooch closer to him, mimicking his position and hoping that he will take my hands again.

"I was the second of six sons, and all of my brothers and I were expected to join the Roman cavalry. We were a large, happy family, and very fortunate that our father could afford to feed all of us without sending us away. My tribe was famous for its cavalry, even Caesar praised us for it in his writings. I trained to fight on land and horse, but although I excelled, my heart told me I did not belong. That I was not meant to be a fighter.

"One day when I was nine-years-old, my grandfather came to see me while I was brushing my horse, Intarabus. I was excited because I rarely got to see my grandfather. My father had forbidden him from coming to our house because he feared that the Roman authorities would discover our relation to a Druid. He was also angry at my grandfather for refusing to adapt to the new Roman ways.

"It happens again with every new change people undergo, whether it is about the gods, God, or the Trinity, or new fashions or technology. Young men become frustrated with their fathers. 'Come on, old man. Too scared to ride the train with its steam engine? Too terrified to pick up the telephone?' Respect dissolves against the insistence of progress. Every time I see this exchange, it is as though I am watching my father and grandfather all over again.

"I probably would have been more resistant to change had my Maker not forced me to comply. And once I was alone, I had no other choice but to adapt or become discovered."

I open my mouth to interrupt and ask about his Maker. However, Godric senses my question, and a grim look settles over his face and he shakes his head. I understand that now is not the time to ask about his early years as a vampire.

"Seeing the strong connection I had with my horse, my grandfather began to tell me about druidry, and although I knew my father would never approve, I could not help myself from being drawn in. I listened to my grandfather speak for at least two hours and I was captivated. I think what drew me to druidry the most was the idea that our souls are immortal, when our body dies, our soul is reborn in the body of another.

"This belief probably spoke so strongly to me because I had just watched my mother die giving birth to my youngest brother. At the time, her pale face and the spill of blood between her legs was the most terrible thing I had ever seen. I attended her burial site regularly in order to be closer to her. I did not want to believe that my mother was mute and trapped in the Underworld as my father told me. I liked the idea of her alive and happy, somewhere on earth."

That does it. I reach forward and take his hand, regardless of whatever this thing is building between us. I know what it is like to lose someone you love like a mother. Godric acknowledges my action by gripping my hand tighter.

"My father beat me for returning home late, but did not know about my grandfather. That night, I resolved to commit myself to druidry, but remain under my father's roof for as long as possible. I trained and learned during the day, and at night I would sneak out of my father's hall and go to my grandfather's villa.

"We wrote nothing down, unlike the Romans who could not trip without writing a report! We learned everything by rote. Scholars call it oral tradition. To me, it was just practicing to remember. I would spend hours by the campfire every night learning the oral histories before returning home to sleep for two hours. I did not advance as easily in fighting or Roman academics as I once did, but somehow, I was able to keep my activities a secret for four years.

"Then, when I was thirteen, I returned home from my grandfather's to discover my entire family awake and waiting for me. Apparently, my younger brother had followed me as I snuck out of the hall and told my father, who had awakened everyone. And that same night my father beat me, nearly to death, as the rest of my family watched. No one dared speak up in my defense.

"Back then Treveran families slept in halls, and although my father was Romanized, he could not afford to rebuild our home. So I lay in the same hall as my father for three days, as he piled abuse and threats upon me. On the third night, when I was strong enough to walk on my own, I went to my grandfather. I was going to explain to him that I could not see him anymore, that I had a duty to my family."

He breaks off, and I squeeze his hand in encouragement. Something tells me that if it is difficult for Godric to talk about, I am not going to like what is coming next.

"I maybe made it fifty feet before my father struck me on the back of my head and dragged me by my hair back to the hall. He ordered my hands tied in front of me, and had me whipped by our slave." He meets my eyes, and his face is filled with hurt and shame, for something his father did thousands of years before I was born.

"Sookie, I cannot explain to you the level of humiliation I felt at being publicly whipped by my underling. Once I collapsed to the ground, my father had one of my younger brothers fetch Intarabus, my horse.

"I had never seen my father in such a rage. He pulled a sword from my brother's scabbard and slit Intarabus' throat, and I could do nothing to stop it. He killed my horse because he knew how much I cared for him. My father walked over to me and said, 'Pity, the horse was worth more than you. You are no longer my son.'

"And he and my family left me there in the dirt with my dead horse. I admit I cried then. I was only thirteen, barely a man."

My heart breaks for him, and tears spill down my cheeks. I rise to my knees and lean into him, taking his face in both my hands. "Godric, you were just a boy! I can't believe he did that to you! I can't think of enough words to say how horrible and wrong that was. And your poor horse!"

I wrap my arms around him and pull him into my body, unthinking of the fact that he is a vampire and I am encouraging him to bury his face in the crook of my neck. I pet his hair and cry for him, this 2,000-year-old boy.

Hesitantly, he breaks away from me and brings his face level to mine. He leans in slowly and licks the tears from my cheeks. The feeling of his tongue against my skin awakens a part of me I'd thought not to feel for a while, and I take a shaky breath. As though he is the air I draw in, his lips meet mine and I am overwhelmed.


	8. Chapter 8

Greeting the Dawn

Chapter 8

**A/N Thank you everyone for reviewing! I can't tell ya'll how much each review means to me! I enjoy getting the chance to talk with ya'll!**

**Yes, I know that Anna Paquin's eyes are brown. However, I prefer Sookie's eyes to be blue like in the books. Sorry if this throws any of ya'll!**

**As always, thank you so much to my beta, KJmom. I don't know what I'd do without her. She definitely keeps me in line!**

**I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter! Please let me know what you think!**

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Godric's Point of View

Her lips beneath mine are a different kind of bliss, like acceptance and love, although it is far to early to use this word. Eager for more of her taste my tongue darts between the part of her lips. Her mouth tastes better than her tears because tasting it is an act of joy, rather than sadness.

Her tongue brushes against mine, and I am almost overcome. I have already pushed her farther than I intended, and I reluctantly draw away, the skin of our lips sticking together as if it too were reluctant to part.

I feel as breathless and lightheaded as she obviously is. I did not know that vampires could feel this way until this moment. I want to remember her face exactly as it is right now. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips wet, mouth open and panting, her beautiful blue eyes fluttering open filled with so much life.

"Godric," she stutters. "I can't. I can't . . ."

I cut her off, placing a finger over her plush lips. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rush you like this, Little One. Let us not speak of it until you feel ready, yes?"

She nods, and I move settling back against the headboard and pat the empty space next to me. Almost in the opposite of the position we were in earlier. Skittishly, she crawls up the bed and smooths her skirt under her, sitting close to me, but not touching.

"Where did we leave off?" I pretend to forget, before resuming. "I lay outside of my family's hall all night long, and for most of the next day until my grandfather came for me." I deliberately omit what happened to Intarabus. I can spare her that knowledge. I can tell that the death of my horse had touched her deeply.

"My grandfather nursed me back to health, and I was able to devote myself to becoming a Druid. Typically, it would take a man ten years to complete the study and memorize the entirety of the oral tradition, and I was already behind due to the four years I could only study half-days. However, I was able to catch up and surpass my grandfather's expectations.

"Like the Romans, druids were polytheistic. We worshipped different nature gods, and performed rituals near the Moselle River and in a tree grove near our town. My grandfather also taught me astronomy, although it is much different and less advanced than what we know about the universe now.

"I earned this tattoo," I point to my upper left bicep. "My grandfather gave it to me after I performed a water ritual in my fourteenth year. It was our symbol for water."

Sookie reaches and wraps one hand around part of my upper arm, covering my tattoo. I suppress a shiver. I want her to feel comfortable touching me, and after our kiss earlier, I don't want to do anything more to frighten her from me. It was all I could do to keep my fangs retracted and enjoy the kiss for the simple offering that it was.

"The tattoo on my other arm is a series of runes in Elder Futhark, which was the limited writing of the time. My grandfather performed a divination for me, and those runes were tattooed on my arm. Roughly, it reads T M D Z I O L H. But each rune has a deeper meaning. 'T' is tiewaz, a god of single combat, victory, and glory. I was told that in my case it represented some kind of competitive success I would achieve.

"'M' is mannaz, or man in the sense of humankind." Sookie heroically attempts to suppress a laugh, which comes out as an unladylike snort. "Go ahead and laugh," I say. "It is rather ironic that I've gone through the past 2,000 as a vampire with the equivalent of 'mankind' tattooed on my body."

She lets go, and laughs like a madwoman. I have to smile along with her. I know that she is not laughing at me, and her laughter is releasing the tension from earlier. While I'm waiting for her to calm down, I move so she can see the runes I am telling her about.

"The 'D' is daeg, which means," I caution with a semi-serious face so she can tell I'm playing, "now do not laugh: day." She bursts into a fit of giggles, clutching at her stomach.

"I can't," she pants once she calms a bit. "I can't believe that you're a vampire who is stuck going through life with mankind and day tattooed on your arm! What must all the other vampires think of you?" She starts laughing again, and she kicks her little feet.

I smile indulgently. I cannot remember a time when I was this carefree, when I was not on guard from some danger or intrigue. I know we are safe because Eric is sitting in the main room, listening not only to us, but for Bill or Lorena. Right now, I am safe to just be myself.

"Before you get carried away, daeg can also indicate growth," I say.

"Oh," she teases. "So you're a vampire who stands for personal growth?"

I roll my eyes. I have not had so much fun in ages. I clear my throat purposefully. "'Z' is actually a kind of E, and stands for good fortune." I continue before she can interpret something funny from that. "'I' is "is" [pronounced ice], which literally means ice, and represents something frozen or put on hold."

"Oh wow," she breathes. "This is actually beginning to make sense!"

I smile at her and say, "What? You did not think that there was any truth to divination?"

She gently slaps my arm and says, "What do you expect? I've been raised in a back-water town where skipping service on a Sunday leads to gossip, and I'm considered crazier than a loon."

I frown at her, my eyebrows coming together in concern. "Sookie, you must know you are worth more than you can comprehend. I am truly sorry that you were raised to believe that your telepathy is anything but a gift. Besides, you are a woman who can read minds and is living in a world with vampires and werewolves. Why is it so surprising to you that it is possible to look into the future?"

She bites her lower lip before letting it slip out of her teeth, and I quickly suppress the urge to lean in and soothe the redness of her lip with my tongue. She nods slowly and says, "You're right. Who am I to doubt the supernatural? You're just going to have to give me some time to adjust is all."

I respect her for accepting my gentle criticism and opening her mind to other possibilities than her reality. I point to the next symbol. "'O' is opilia, which has different meanings: estate, possession, or heritage. I was never told which my arm actually means, but in a general sense it represents acquisition or possessions, inheritance, or wealth."

She eyes the rune and asks, "But why tattoo that on your arm? What does it have to do with the rest of the divination?"

"To be completely honest, Little One, I am not sure. It may have foretold everything I would amass during my long lifetime, or maybe it foreshadowed the vast amount of knowledge I have learned." I point to the next rune, seeing that she is having difficulty telling one from another.

"'L' is laguz or water. Often, this stands for lake, but I believe that it represents imagination or intuition. Laguz is a very feminine rune, like tiewaz is masculine."

She snorts, and I look at her expectantly. "What?" She asks rhetorically, blushing. "I was just thinking that those are a lot better than having naked people tattooed on your body."

I shake my head at her thoughts. Sookie Stackhouse is most unpredictable. Although I have only known her for a day, I can no longer imagine my life without her. "The last rune is 'H,' hagal for hail, and it stands for forces outside of human control."

She traces each rune with her fingertip. "It seems as though the druids really did see your future," she muses. "Did it hurt? Getting those, I mean?"

I nod, "Yes, very much. We did not have modern aniseptic or modern machines. We had to earn our tattoos; you couldn't just go to the store and sit in a chair. First, you had to make the ink. You would mix acacia bark with smaller parts of gall and vitriol. Then, you would grind corroded bronze with vinegar before adding the other parts. This would make a powder. You then would soak the powder in water and leek juice."

I can see her eyes glazing over a bit, and I can tell she is growing weary. "Then, you wash the area to be tattooed with leek juice and then prick in the design until blood is drawn. Finally, the ink is rubbed into the wound. Getting the tattoo was the easy part though. You then had to be careful to keep the area from getting infected.

"If a man developed an infection, we believed that the gods were angry that the man had not earned the tattoo. One of the older druid students died of an infection shortly before I received my runes."

She takes her hand back and rests it in her lap. She is silent, and her breathing slows. I suppose that she is falling asleep. I move to lift her and place her under the covers, but before I touch her, she speaks, "And the dragon on your back, what does that mean?"

I move so she can see my back more easily. She traces its scales down my back, and my muscles jump involuntarily. "It is a serpent, both dragon and snake. I received it at age sixteen. My serpent represented many things, and I embraced them all. The snake stands for secret knowledge, cunning, and transformation. The dragon represents sovereignty, a chief. I was honored and blessed when the elder druids chose this for me. I was excited that they foresaw such a bright future for me," I say, almost bitterly.

Sookie reaches and wraps her arms around me, hugging me from behind. She lays her face on my back, and I can feel each puff of warm air as she exhales. We sit like this in silence, before I feel something wet on my back. Drool! She is drooling on me!

I suppress a laugh before I lean back, letting gravity take her to the bed. I am glad that she did not ask about my last tattoo. I am not ready to share that with her yet. After this morning, its meaning seems to have changed.

I lift her body, careful not to disturb her, and peel the covers back before gently laying her down and tucking her in. I stand by the bed and admire her. Her lush curls spread around her face, mouth slightly open, one hand sticking out from under the covers, as though she is reaching for me.

I force myself to leave, before I stand there all night. I shut the door behind me and enter the main room. "Well," my Child drawls, "you're missing some clothing and have exchanged some fluids, just not the kind I would expect."

I raise my eyebrows, looking at Eric with disapproval, before sitting in the chair facing him. "You know Sookie Stackhouse is no laughing matter."

Eric crosses his legs, placing an ankle over his knee and blows a short spurt of air out his nose, as if amused. "I am well aware of that, Godric. I've been after that woman for far too long."

"I'm surprised, Eric," I arch my eyebrow, teasing him. "I thought no woman could resist your seductions for long."

"We both know she is no ordinary woman." He looks intently at me. "It is true that I want her, but Master, I sense that you are drawn to her, and she is now yours. I will cease my pursuit

"Could you? Could you really give her up?" I ask him, willing him to explain his attraction to her.

"Yes, I would. I would do for you, Godric, what I would do for no other. I want her for more than to satisfy my base appetites. She is attractive, smart, and vivacious, but underneath it all, there is a light, a brightness, as though her soul is singing and I can hear it. But for you I would give her up."

I sit back in my chair. I could force Eric to relinquish Sookie Stackhouse to me, but losing her would kill something inside him. And I fear that he would become as I was this past morning on the roof. No, I would never hurt my child like that. But can I give her up? Can I let her go? A deep roar bursts out of the darkness, turning into a scream. _No! I cannot._

"Eiríkr, Jag skulle inte mer tvinga dig att ge henne än jag skulle tvinga dig att möta solen. Men jag kommer inte att lämna henne om hon inte frågar." _Eric, I would no more force you to give her up than I would force you to meet the sun. But I will not leave her unless she asks._

He smiles, showing a hint of fang, "Hon kommer att vara vår." _Then she will be ours._


End file.
